


Across the Nocen Sea / Across the Waking Sea

by FoxyWolfMeerkat



Series: The Sea Turtle and The Peacock [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood Magic, Child Abuse, Gen, Good-ish Parent Aquinea, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Mother-Son Relationship, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyWolfMeerkat/pseuds/FoxyWolfMeerkat
Summary: Can also be found on my writing Tumblr, here:http://sparemyocs.tumblr.com/post/165177172596/across-the-nocen-sea-across-the-waking-sea





	Across the Nocen Sea / Across the Waking Sea

_Umbralis 9:41 Dragon_

“You’re a blood mage.”  
He hissed in agony as he dug the knife into his arm, “I am. We all- _Fenedhis_ \- We all have our dirty little secrets.”  
“Does Dorian know?” She watched the blood, unafraid but tense. Aquinea kept her staff in her hands tightly.  
“…Yes. It was a difficult conversation but… We try to be understanding of each other.”  
If her hands went any looser, her staff would drop to the floor. “Alright. I trust you as well then.”  
In the crisp air, Aquinea remembers: _This is what it’s like to breathe._

* * *

_Molioris 9:16 Dragon  
_

Dorian was not supposed to get into his parents things. They were not his things and that was the long and short of it. But his mother had such pretty things. Shiny pearls in many soft colors, gold and silver and bronze things for her neck and wrists and ankles, ears and fingers and waist. Even some things just meant to be weaved into her hair. Most of it didn’t fit him, naturally. He had to get creative. He had no idea what this scrap of silk was supposed to go to, but what it did make was a fantastic cape.  
Once he was satisfied that he had enough sparkle, he marched out of his mother’s room and straight to where she lounged in her sitting room and cleared his throat. “Archon Pavus wishes for an audience!”  
The woman looked up slowly from her glass of wine, blue green eyes scanning over him for a moment blankly before she broke out into a soft smile.  
_He made his mother smile!_  
“Well of course, mighty Archon.” She slid off the sofa like water, her fashionable silk dress slipping this way and that over her legs as the layered (the top layer was green, and then blue, and last white peaked out the least from her movements) and high cut fabric was acted on by gravity, her knees poking out for a second before hiding away again with the white as she straightened up. Her face was even nicer when she was smiling. Dorian never wanted it to stop.  
Forgetting whatever else he wanted to say, the child threw his arms out to her excitedly. She swept him up, making the sea colored strips of fabric falling away from her elbows glide under him. Getting a good hold on him, she started to sway in a slightly unsteady approximation of a waltz. “Hopefully I can kept such a renowned figure entertained.”

They played in peace for a while before his mother stopped abruptly, looking at the door with her smile wavering. Dorian looked and spotted his father, waving to him happily.  
He smiled gently, “Well well, what is all this?”  
“We’re having a ball. Mother hosted it for me!”  
“What’s the occasion?”  
“Archon Pavus doesn’t need occasions.” He puffed up, folding his arms and letting his broad smile cover his face.  
That made his father smile wider, but his mother put him down. “I ought to finish my drink, my sweet. If you want to keep any of that you may. If not you can just put it on my bed later.” She patted his head, going back to sitting down.  
“I’m glad you’re so interested in being Archon, Dorian.” His father complemented him, “You would be very impressive indeed.” He headed away then, probably having ‘important business to attend to’.

Left to his own devices, Dorian occupied the rest of the night parading around the house and lording over the large space while dressed up.

* * *

_Ferventis 9:28 Dragon_

“Unbelievable. Unbelievable! What are we going to do Aquinea? He’s out of control! How will he ever amount to anything if he can’t even restrain himself for long enough to finish his apprenticeship?! We have sent him to nearly every Circle between here and Minrathous and each near scandal is worse than the last? It’s either a fight or- or-”  
Aquinea hid the roll of her eyes behind a large gulp of wine.  
“And you! You sit back and do nothing while your son runs himself into the ground.”  
“I’m shocked,” she deadpanned, “I was under the impression you didn’t want my help. Halward Pavus needs no aid with his son. He knows _just_ the right schools, _just_ the right tutors, because he is _just_ right.”  
“Don’t you care enough to try and set him on the right path? He had such potential once.”  
“He still has potential, Halward. So long as we do not break him, he will have potential.” Aquinea stared her husband down, sipping more of her wine. “Dorian is not a horse that must be tamed for riding. He’s becoming a man, and men either do as they will or they float through life to their deaths.”  
“Enough of your poetic foolishness…” He sighed, bobbing with the sound. “I believe I know where to send him.”  
“Is that right? Good luck with that.”

* * *

_Eluviesta_ _9:20 Dragon  
_

Dorian sat in his room, picking over his books with a frown. His father had already lectured him over his ‘behavior’. The look on his paternal grandparents faces when they visited said plenty as well. Grandfather Ilitides said it was ‘a sign of worse to come’. What did his magical prowess and way with words even amount to if he couldn’t keep a straight face? If he couldn’t control himself?  
The shock from his fingers roasted the spines of some of his books and he felt his eyes start to sting, drawing his hand into himself in a fist. This was stupid! He’d been defending his family name, his father, from some plebeian! Wasn’t that what he was _supposed_ _to be doing_?  
Dorian heard the distinct clicking of heeled boots snapping to the floor long before he saw his mother. Could always tell she was coming that way. One could practically track her through most of the building. He’d even found her in crowds by following the sound. That she went out of her way to amplify it somehow irritated most people, but Dorian found it sort of reassuring that she’d never sneak up on him.  
Three rabid-fire knocks on his door; “Come in Mother.”  
She slipped in without a word, closing the door behind herself. Her dress was in gold and silver today, wrapping around her like interlocked fingers. Her finger curled in invitation as she went to sit at the head of his bed silently.  
Dorian wiped at his eyes lightly to make sure he still looked presentable in that regard, swallowed the lump in his throat as he sat beside her. What more could she have to add? A lot probably. He fixed his posture quickly when she pinched his arm. “Sorry Mother.”  
Her expression was as unreadable as ever as she looked him over. Then she held up her hand, spinning her downward pointed finger like she was tracing the lip of a wine glass. Dorian turned to let her reach his back.  
Despite himself, when he felt her nails combing through his hair his shoulders fell and his head leaned back into the affection.  
“What’d he do?” His mother asked almost casually. They could have been talking about the weather, rather than his recent expulsion.  
“He insulted Father’s work in the Magisterium. …Said he was weak, and that I was too.”  
“I heard he bled.”  
“I got some of it on my clothes actually. …Sorry.”  
“There are more important things.” She started wrapping soft ribbon or something of the sort around his head and into his hair. “You won?”  
“Of course I did.”  
“Good, my sweet. I expect nothing less from you.”  
Dorian felt himself stiffen slightly, “Hold on, you’re _proud_ of me? I… I just got kicked out of my Circle.”  
“It happens. You are learning. …A snake shouldn’t make a habit of showing it’s fangs though, Dorian. They’ll fear and respect you more if they do not see your strike coming. It’s also better to hit where they are not armored. You’ve only managed to hurt yourself this way.”  
He sighed at the advice. “What if… I don’t want to be a snake?”  
“You don’t have a choice.”

* * *

_Solis 9:26 Dragon_

She nursed her wine as Dorian read to her. Some historical drama based in western Tevinter that had grabbed his interest but not hers. Not that she let it show. Aquinea loved being read to and it was good that he had an interest in these sorts of things. It meant he was smarter than she was. Just not smart enough.  
Dorian stopped mid-sentence to greet Ilitides. Aquinea winced outside their attentions.  
“I’ll not have your nonsense boy.” He snarled, “These disgusting games of yours will stop before they sully my heritage.” Ilitides was drunk. Aquinea was not surprised.  
She stood, and he didn’t charge across the room. She grabbed Dorian by the arm and pulled him to his feet, pulled him past his grandfather. She ignored it when he hissed at her.  
“I don’t know how, but this is _entirely_ your fault, Aquinea. We all know it.”  
“Yes Father.” She clucked boredly, “Come, Dorian. We’re long overdue for a day at the beach.”

* * *

_Nubulis 9:25 Dragon_

Dorian hadn’t known about the visit. All he’d known was that he was desperate to get out of his room for a little while and had good reason too. A little note. A little chance to see…  
And Maker take him, nothing had ever been so sweet. His vision was narrowed and his ears were filled with cotton. He grabbed at the hips pinning his to the wall and it was glorious. Though also distracting, predictably. She shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on him, would not have willingly but-  
“Vishante kaffas! What are you two-? Lady Thalrassian, I _swear_ this sort of sordid behavior is _not_ allowed in our Circle!” Dorian felt his stomach twisting into the Void itself as his mother threw up a hand in the Dean’s face to silence her.  
The other boy jumped off of him, looking between Dorian and the grown women in a panic before pointing to the other teen. “It was all his idea! I- I was just-”  
“You will tell _no one_ about this, understood? I will _destroy you_ if you try to slander my son again.” Dorian relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief as his mother defended him. He straightened up as she marched over to him, stepping forward to leave and-  
Her rings bit into his cheek, and he swore he felt his ears pop. Her other hand dug fiercely into his arm and dragged him away. All the way out to the carriage, he didn’t resist.

On getting home, she let him retreat to his room without another word. It’d been a horrifically quiet trip. Dorian sat on his bed, the right side of his face had long since stopped being raw but it echoed. Finally alone, after several days for the shock to travel through his system, no amount of deep breaths could calm him. Why?! How could his actions have been so terrible to earn such a punishment? What would happen when his father heard?  
The kohl he wore too much of was streaking down his face and he could feel it. It itched. Dorian almost reached up to try and wipe the mess away but then the door burst open and he froze up.  
“More fighting?! Again, Dorian? Making your mother break up a fight is absolutely-” The Magister stopped dead as he actually looked at his young teen son.  
“I… What?”  
“…Dorian…” He sighed and deflated, “This cannot keep happening, my son. We expect better from you.”  
He blinked at the older man owlishly, otherwise statue still.  
Halward frowned deeply, looking down from the boy’s messy face. “Clean yourself up Dorian. I’ll have dinner sent up to you when it’s ready.” The door was slipped shut quietly behind the man as he left.

After dinner, Dorian snuck through the estate to his mother’s room. He knocked twice, and entered after hearing glass clattering against something. The woman was in a state of half dress, her night gown covering just enough to be considered modest, sprawled over her bed face down with her long black hair scattered free around her. Her left arm dangled off the far side over a collection of wine bottles that were still mostly full. She’d likely be dead if she had emptied them all.  
“Mother?” Dorian whispered after closing the door behind himself. She twitched her head up, arm raising to push the front half of her body up. The teen crept forward, avoiding the bottles on the floor. “You didn’t tell Father what happened…?”  
He was stunned to see that her kohl, among other things, was completely destroyed yet still plastered to her skin rather than wiped away for presentation. Some of it was smudged across her pillow like she’d been rubbing her face into it. She pressed the knuckles of her right hand against the eye on the same side and whimpered.  
Actually whimpered. Like some sort of animal.  
Sitting up, she adjusted her gown as though it’d make her look any more in order. Dorian sat beside her and she wrapped herself around him like a blanket, pushing her fingers into his hair. “…Never, my sweet.” Her voice strained quietly. “Never. …I’m so sorry. I’m so… You deserve so much more. I’ll never have a way to give it to you.”  
The way she slurred made the young man curious if she’d remember this in the morning.  
“I’m never going to fail you like that again, baby. …Hate me if I do. Hate me if I ever…” Her head ducked, it’s full weight suddenly resting on him. Her breaths reeked of wine.  
Dorian lingered in the embrace for a long while, as her arm fell from around him and she leaned much of herself onto him unconsciously. When he did finally slip away, he made sure to do her the dignity of tucking her in. Carefully cleaned up her face while trying not to disturb her. Put the empty bottles just outside the door for easy access by her slaves.

If she remembered any of it by the next morning, nothing gave it away.

* * *

_Nubulis 9:25 Dragon_

“Oh, Madam Thalrassian! I wasn’t expecting you darling,” the Dean smiled to her widely, waving her own hand out to invite her to sit in the seat opposite her own. “I haven’t seen you since we were bright eyed and in the Circle together, Aquinea. How have you been?”  
Aquinea rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly as she took the invitation, “I imagine I don’t need to tell you of my son’s habit of trouble making, since you invited my husband here, Vatseta. He has been busy, so you got me.”  
“No! No, this is good. You’ll be much better to talk to. Easier to explain my thoughts.” Vatseta sat down smoothly, “Now, I need to start by saying that your son _is_ extremely intelligent and remarkably powerful. Most of the time he’s an active student, a dedicated study, and has turned in a number of absolutely _fascinating_ papers in each of his classes. In practice he’s no less capable. His spell casting is beautiful. Dorian has put on shows for his friends with the express purpose of showing off. He’s entirely capable of succeeding and he knows it but… His problems getting along with the other boys are a major hindrance to him, I believe. Dorian’s pride gets the better of him and he can’t bring himself to back down from a challenge. Even imagined ones I think. So defensive. Sometimes he seems to start fights just for the sake of it; bet he gets that from you. There’s something else about him however: something I can’t quite pin down about him that reminds me quite a lot of you when we were children. He’s just… different. Whatever it is, I imagine if you could iron it out of yourself then he could too. I just need to know _how_ , Aquinea. Preferably before these self destructive habits of his ruin him, and your House in turn.”  
Aquinea stared the Dean down, her hand dropping into her lap. “He’ll learn in time. …I’ll start looking into private tutors. For now, keep him away from the rest of the students after his classes. There will be no fights if he can’t get to his opponents.”  
Vatseta just stared for a moment, “You’re… You’re saying to just… lock him away? …That’s what I’ve already been doing! It’s no help to me at all!” The other woman roared, pushing a clawed hand into her hair. “I was supposed to be the one to tame the brat: I promised Magister Halward it would be so, and you’re just saying there’s nothing I can do!?”  
Aquinea glanced down to her own nails in disinterest at the outburst. “Your failure is no fault of mine, Dean Pachaeus. Now, I’d like to see my son before I go home.” She looked up again, expression dull, “Where would his room be?”

* * *

_Cassus 9:27 Dragon_

The arm wrapped around his shoulder was a comfort, even as it led him away from his latest set of mistakes. Somewhere along the line, his father had stopped wanting to pick him up when his tutors cast him out. Dorian had his hood pulled over his head against the wind which was whipping his coat tails against the back of his legs. Miserable weather, and it all stank of harbor water. Probably was harbor water soaking into his clothes actually.  
“…Am I broken?”  
“No more broken than a fork in a restaurant that only serves soup.”  
“That doesn’t make much sense, Mother.”  
“Save your energy. There’s worse storms to weather than this. …Let’s go book shopping my sweet. I don’t want to ride in this mess and I imagine the slaves feel so doubly. Then you can read to me on the way back.”

* * *

_Frumentum 9:11 Dragon_

Aquinea felt something seeing him. Something. Something.  
The months had been long. Too sober. But it was to protect everything that her life was supposed to mean, the future of both House Pavus and House Thalrassian. It felt a little more worth it in that brief moment.  
He had a little beauty mark on his cheek and just a little bit of fluffy black hair on his head and fat, fat baby cheeks. She pinched one gently and smiled briefly when his sniveling stopped at her touch. He reached for her hand and she let him have it. He was by no means hers alone, a notable part of her wished for a short time that he was.  
Selfish of her really, this was not her moment.  
The rest of the family was in the room minutes later and she wouldn’t get to hold Dorian again for a while as Halward gushed and Ilitides judged. Nikon and Prisca did as well, but less harshly. Like their son, they were mostly excited. He was healthy, he was going to be incredible, he would carry their names well.  
Aquinea tuned the talk out after a while and wondered when she could have another drink.

* * *

_Parvulis 9:28 Dragon  
_

The Order of Argent was suffocating. Though Dorian supposed that was entirely the point. He was lounging on his bed, reading some trite fluffy nonsense that could scarcely be considered romance (the characters didn’t connect at all and frankly he’d not even be moved by a long scene with a pire) when he heard the familiar snapping. Putting the trash aside, Dorian sat up before he heard the curt triplicate request. “Come in.” He smiled on seeing his mother, a mess of feathers sprinkled through her hair with a dress that had the ‘lace’ to match. “Well what a pleasant surprise! And I haven’t even done anything to shame the family yet. What’s the occasion?”  
“Turning your father’s face that shade of purple that goes so fetchingly with his grey eyes.” She trotted over to his bed and sat beside him, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small gift. “It’s early, but I wanted… Open it.” She looked more at the package than at him.  
Humming in interest, Dorian took the neatly wrapped present and took his time opening it. He was shocked to find the delicately crafted birthright in his hands, well before he’d earned it.  
The bottom line, below the actual family crest, had the short family motto House Pavus had carried with it since the Fifth Age. _  
_ The top line had a personal motto, one his mother had picked for him and likely the more honest reason she was gifting him such a token of status now, several years and a month too early.

_‘Never Surrender’  
‘Shine Brighter’_

“I… I don’t know what to say.” He looked up to her, searching her face.  
But she gave him nothing, “Then say nothing, my sweet. …Should I depart now, or would you like to read to me for a little while?”

* * *

_Parvulis 9:10 Dragon_

Aquinea looked herself over in the mirror in her private room, unimpressed. The dress was typical and plain and conservative. Ilitides picked it out. Her last option swept out from under her nose like one final slap to the face. It hurt no less than the real thing. But she’d just spent the last half hour carving halves of each of her sleeves to do something more with her hair than just let it sit on her head. And the new end of the tight sleeves cupped her elbows at a point that was at least slightly more interesting.  
One last moment to herself. She couldn’t cry, didn’t want to smile, so she stared instead. Looking down to her feet, she clicked her tongue when she saw only more fabric.  
Aquinea focused without worrying about the consequences, heating the bottom of the dress and letting it light up. Two inches in back, three in the front, and she could see her heeled shoes. They were sooty, like quite a bit of the new hem. They made her smile.  
She’d make them snap on the floor, and everyone would see even if she couldn’t kick and scream.

* * *

_Pluitanis 9:33 Dragon_

Dorian had been enjoying the Wintersend festivities with a healthy buzz when there was loud clicking and a tap at his shoulder. Turning, he found himself facing his mother for the first time again in years. His stomach dropped but his lips curled up, “Mother! I never know when I should be expecting you.” She pinched his arm and he corrected his slight forward lean with a playful sigh. “And I see you haven’t forgotten your role in my life at all.”  
“…I’m proud of you for passing your test.”  
“I’m aware. You wrote that lovely, strange letter saying as much. Now then, are you here to pester me about that arrangement? A Wintersend party is a good time for it after all. Only Summerday might be better.”  
“Officially, that’s what your father knows. I’d prefer to drink. Maybe dance.”  
He laughed from his chest. “Oh Mother, I do love you. Let’s then. The evening is still young.” He’d been planning to entertain… other individuals this fine day but, as he extended an arm for her, Dorian couldn’t quite bring himself to mind the change of plans.

* * *

_Verimensis 9:06 Dragon_

Aquinea wasn’t sure who’d brought the alcohol into this party. She had no idea of the vintage or the origin. What she did know was that everyone was watching her and it felt _fantastic._ Up on a table in a ridiculous, wonderful sparkling green dress that hung too low on her chest, too high on her legs but with tassels on the hem reaching down to her feet that bounced with her every kick and shake.  
Half her head was completely shaved and no one could stop her. No one. She’d smash her way through into the new year and show back up at the Circle in time for classes to start with her father none the wiser.

 

Aquinea woke with a throbbing headache. Slowly. Sophie snoozed beside her, looking a little rough from the wild night. She didn’t bother worrying. Sophie could take it. Now she just had to sober up and get back to the Circle. She eased out of the inn bed, confused to find that she had on any nightclothes. Surprised to find a clean robe waiting for her. Terrified to realize the door out was locked from the outside. There were no windows. Taking several steps back, she found no staff, but prepared the blast of fire anyway.  
Not strong enough. Aquinea realized dully that she’d been poisoned, magic sapped away to prevent escape.

The guards forced her from the nightclothes into the robe when they came in. One of them forced her to sleep, magically. She didn’t have the power she should have had to resist it. It should have been nothing.

 

Brought home, the was thrown down at her father’s feet like a dirty rag.  
“Aquinea, I have tolerated your foolishness for long enough.”  
Somewhere behind her there was the thump of a second body. Aquinea was too angry to process it, and powerless besides. She pulled herself to her feet, spitting on his boots on the way up. “Oh, _tolerated._ That’s what you’ve done, hm? My tutors never taught me _that particular definition of it._ ” She sneered at him, baited him. Aquinea was it for him. Had been since she was seven. What was the worst he could do that he hadn’t-  
Ilitides grabbed her by the throat and tossed her from her feet and onto the floor. His foot connected with her stomach. Once. Twice.  
In the fog, Aquinea remembers: _I’m going to die._

* * *

_Molioris 9:37 Dragon_

Dorian captured Rilienus’ lips again. He’s been kissing these particular lips for far too long for his own good but he hasn’t been rejected yet. Why stop? Besides the way his heart was starting to flutter when he spoke. Besides the way it was hard to see anything else when he was around, with his devilish little smile.  
Right now he was consumed with him, it was inebriating. All he could smell, taste, see, hear, and _feel._ He was full of him, literally and maybe even metaphorically and it was so good it almost ached. And that wasn’t just because he was getting pounded into Rilienus’ bed.  
Dorian could close his eyes and recall the exact shade of light brown that made his stomach flip. He could lick his lips and taste the other man. He’d memorized the cadence with which Rilienus used to greet him, to groan his name, to laugh.  
He forgot not to let himself hope but he never asked. Not even today when the man positioned him in front of a mirror bare to stroke his body and his ego. Not even when the sex started out slow and delicate. Dorian pushed to make sure it didn’t stay that way. Couldn’t take it.

Rilienus had a hand between them, rubbing him off as he fell over his own edge just before the door burst open. They were torn apart, and the other man was too dazed to do anything. Light brown stared back at grey as Dorian fought against men in full armor while his erection was still dying.  
There was little he could do. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Rilienus! Please I’m sorry!” Dorian screamed himself hoarse as he was dragged out through a horror scene and thrown into an unmarked carriage. He stopped shouting when the carriage door slammed shut and locked.

There was blood smudged on the soles of his feet and where the guards, his family’s men he numbly realized, had grabbed him. There was cum leaking out of him. They’d brought no clothes for him to get into, but he had no doubt they had already located all this things. Dorian covered his mouth with both hands as he sobbed, eyes wide open, balled up on the floor of the carriage.

* * *

_Matrinalis 9:04 Dragon_

“Ooooh Sophie!” Aquinea threw herself over the arm of the couch, posing dramatically. “Sophie! Draw me like one of your Orlesian girls!” She was completely naked. It was absolutely because she’d managed to rip her robes. No other reasons.  
“Hm,” Sophie tapped her pencil against her leather book. “I don’t know, will you let me touch the goods this time?”  
So uncultured, not knowing the play that trashy line was from. _Lovely!_ Aquinea shot up, putting her hand on her chest and letting her mouth fall open. “ _A_ _Soporati touching an Altus?!_ Sophie, you’re absolutely mad!”  
The other girl laughed and shook her head. “I know ya get off on it Aqua. Don’t even try and fake it.”  
She pouted, “And you don’t Sophie?”  
“Nope, not at all. Now lay down so I can get sketching. I'ma make you regret askin’ for it with your back arched like that. You’re lucky Evaris likes rubbing on us so much.”  
“Oh, you are so nasty to me Sophie. Evaris and I should just elope all by ourselves. Our Laetan boy is so considerate.” She got back into place, sighing happily as she thought of the lower class pair. “…I do get off on it.”

* * *

_Verimensis 9:38 Dragon_

She hadn’t spent a day so much as half sober since he’d arrived, bless her soul. Spoke to no one, didn’t eat dinner with any of them, didn’t even dress properly. Dorian grabbed one of the half consumed bottles of wine from the floor, which sat in front of the sofa she was on, that resided in her favorite sitting room, and patted her arm. “You-” he swallowed the rest of the bottle and had to catch his breath. “You are an inspiration.”  
Drunk unto oblivion, she didn’t respond.  
Wobbling, he grabbed another bottle to nurse from and made his way over to her writing desk. Sitting down, he kicked up his feet and started digging carelessly though the contents.

 _'Death lies across the Nocen Sea_  
_Death you see, is where she wants to be_  
_The turtle swims across the Nocen Sea_  
_Thinking maybe they can’t swim like she’_

He reads a dozen more, pondering if she’d miss any if he stole them. It’s hardly the finest poetry he’s ever read, but it oozes her. Her special brand of refined oddity.

 _'A leather wrap pulled quite tight_  
_A leather wrap is just right_  
_Spun around a fork where it lie_  
_Spun around to make a pretty lie’_

Some were written in cursive so messy that he had to read over it a few times, but it was all still her handwriting. Presumably these had been made when she had more drink in her system than usual. A few even had wrinkly wine stains.

Dorian drank. Eventually he fell asleep too.

* * *

_Parvulis 9:00 Dragon_

The child threw her hands out and howled, “The mighty Scion of Thalrassian **dares** her **pathetic** competition to challenge her! She is **ready**!” Her friends cheered for her loudly, Vatseta especially.  
An older girl stepped up to face her. Aquinea liked freezing her ugly lipstick when she wasn’t paying attention. So the older girl’s friends like gossiping about how the littler girl was all show.  
The fight was nothing though. The teen picked up her staff and Aquinea froze the back of it to the ground. She tried to melt the ice and Aquinea confused her into lighting it on fire instead. She jumped back only to lose her footing on grease. Then she landed in a pile of spiders which promptly melted into a goop that would wreck her expensive Circle robes.  
Aquinea didn’t want to hurt her. That’d get her in trouble. Humiliating the other girl however, that was perfectly passable.

* * *

_Cassus 9:39 Dragon_

Dorian didn’t pull back against the slaves leading him down… Somewhere. It was the cellar, but not the part where they kept the wine. They kept him steady down the stairs and helped him into a chair. He nodded off for a bit; it was late after all, he’d been sleeping.  
When he woke he felt far more aware. Someone had cleansed his system of alcohol, but it was so damned dark down here it was hard to tell if anyone was still around. In trying to cast, Dorian realized two heart stopping things: firstly, he’d been strapped down to this chair, and secondly, he’d been dosed with something that was stunting his magic. He cursed a few times, the panic rising as he struggled. “S-SOMEONE HELP ME!”  
“Dorian-” the man flinched at the voice, “relax my son. I’m sorry it has come to this. …After our fight, I realized that you desperately needed help.” There was a slight pop as a torch was lit behind him, and Dorian was able to see his father. His captor. “I was hesitant to take your grandfather’s advice, but it seems this may be the only way. You will never be able to control yourself otherwise…”  
He stared at the other, taking the sight of him in and trying to understand what was happening. “Is… Is that blood?!” The younger man leaned away, bracing his feet on the floor in a useless attempt to get back further.  
Halward sighed deeply, energizing the red fluid, “Everything will be fine Dorian, I assure you.” He looked up somewhere behind Dorian in exasperation as the room got a little lighter. “You should not be here Aquinea. What happened to the guard?” He wavered, collapsing into something behind him as focused entropy acted on him.  
Dorian couldn’t find his words as the woman came down, closing his eyes and trying to time his breaths to her every other step. It was probably still too fast but it was something. She released him, and her nails dug into his arm. Up, back to the livable half of the house (Maker, there was blood on his face- who’s blood was this!?). To the foyer. He hadn’t seen any guards, dead or otherwise. His mother shoved a coat into his hands, and his birthright. Then she opened the front door and shoved him out into the rain and dark.  
“Get out. Don’t come back.”  
Dorian felt it in his bones when she slammed the door in his face.

* * *

_Solis 8:96 Blessed_

She’s dead. Her mother had gone to fight the oxmen but now she was just dead and gone for good. Her big brother wanted to go now too. Go across the sea. Her father was too proud of his anger to stop him.  
They’d be left alone.  
Aquinea didn’t want to be left alone with her father.

* * *

_Umbralis 9:41 Dragon_

Dorian chuckled softly, “Fine fine, I’ll say it. Morrigan’s dress from the ball is one of the most tragic examples of Orlesian fashion I’ve seen since coming South. Are you content?”  
Vivienne pursed her lips slightly, “Not entirely darling. That assessment took you much too long.”  
“And you were desperate enough for it to chase me down to my corner of Skyhold.” Dorian heard the snapping but dismissed it on his imagination.  
“Chase is such a strong word.”  
“…Ah. There are the books.” Came a light Tevene voice from the stairs, “Dorian?”  
Vivienne turned towards the stairs and her brows rose, “Dear, are… you in a full fur dress? Aren’t you sweltering?”  
His mother tisked as she came into view, “Are you not _freezing?_ I don’t know how you Southerners manage this. That dwarf downstairs had the right idea.” She looked into the nook and smiled softly at him. “Ah. I was right to ask for the library. If you’ll excuse us?” Aquinea gave a tiny brush of her fingers to dismiss Vivienne. Once they were alone, she slipped in. “Officially, I am here to try and convince you home.”  
Dorian groaned softly, but felt light at heart. “I certainly hope you don’t expect good drinks _or_ dancing here. You’ll be severely disappointed.”  
“I had a hunch. I only expected you.”  
“Have you heard much? I know you never really paid attention to politics despite it all.”  
“More than usual. I’ve heard of Corypheus and the Venatori. …I’ve heard more of you and the High Lord Inquisitor.”  
“Ah, yes. We have been… involved.” Dorian looked away, feeling his heart pound.  
“Well, I’m glad you’ve stopped picking low hanging fruits,” came the passive reply. “I’ll have to see him later. I don’t know how long I have before I ought to get back.”  
“Without me?”  
“Without you. You aren’t coming back.”  
“…Of course. …Shall I… Read for you then? I think I have a few things in mind.”  
“Please.”

 

 

 

 _'There is a peacock, awake across the Waking Sea_  
_There is a peacock and he is not waiting for anything_  
_He is was not running across the Sea, you see_  
_He was chasing anything bigger than he’_

**Author's Note:**

> Can also be found on my writing Tumblr, here:  
> http://sparemyocs.tumblr.com/post/165177172596/across-the-nocen-sea-across-the-waking-sea


End file.
